


Blurred Lines

by justfandomthings



Category: NCIS: Los Angeles
Genre: Bromance, Emotional Hurt/Comfort, Gen, Getting to Know Each Other, Hurt/Comfort, Pre-Season/Series 01
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-02-01
Updated: 2019-02-01
Packaged: 2019-10-20 00:49:06
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 9,093
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/17612273
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/justfandomthings/pseuds/justfandomthings
Summary: Sometimes that blurred line is the only thing that keeps Callen going.The story of how Callen met Sam's family and, over the years, become part of the family himself.





	Blurred Lines

Nearly a year into their partnership goes by before Sam mentions one day, casually as if it's not the most personal detail he's ever revealed about himself, that he has a wife and daughter.

And he doesn't even mention it like that, it’s only when Callen asks him his plans for the night- the same as any other night- as they're clearing their desks of paperwork and other junk, that Sam says nonchalantly,

“I'll be having lasagna with Michelle and Kamron; it's Kam's favorite so Michelle thought she'd make it for her tonight.”

Callen, frowning, slings his bag over his shoulder. “I'm sorry, who are we talking about?”

“My wife and kid.” Sam closes the door behind them as they step outside and walk towards their respective cars. “How ‘bout you, any plans for tonight?”

When no response immediately forthcomes, he looks around, sees he's standing alone, turns, and finds Callen standing a few feet behind him, staring at him.

“What?”

“You have a family?”

“A wife and two children,” Sam nods, smiling at the thought of his loved ones. “Michelle's ex-CIA; when we had Aiden, she retired and being the stay-home parent became her new job. But he’s at the naval boarding school so it's just Michelle and Kam at home.”

Callen nods slowly, appearing to process this new information about his partner. “How old is your daughter?”

“Four,” Sam says proudly.

There's a pause as Callen processes and then he asks, “Why now?”

“Why now what?” Sam asks, unlocking his car.

Callen watches him for a moment, seemingly sensing his partner's desire to be at home with his family as soon as possible, and shakes his head. “Nothing. Enjoy your lasagna.”

Sam eyes him for a moment. “I will.” He then gets into his car and closes the door. The engine starts a moment later and Callen steps back, allowing his partner the space he needs to leave. The car window rolls down and Sam leans in his direction. “And Callen? Why do you think I'd tell you?”

_I have no idea,_ Callen thinks to himself as he watches his partner drive away. They've been partners for nearly nine months now and sure, they get along well enough, but is nine months really enough time for Sam to judge his character and decide that he's worthy of the trust he's just bestowed him about his _family?_

Callen shakes his head to himself, heading for his own vehicle. He's reeling from the display of trust from his partner and what it means for him, if anything.

_Sam has a family._

More than ever, he has to make sure his partner always makes it out of their ops alive. He has a family to provide for, a little girl who is depending on him to come home every night.

It's his job to make sure that always happens, that Sam is safe so he can always go home to his family.

 

The next time Sam mentions his family, it's when he's driving them to a crime scene a week later. “You figure it out?”

Callen frowns at him, turning his attention only partially away from the road as he says, “Figure out what exactly?”

“Why I told you about Michelle, Aiden, and Kam.”

“I thought you were losing your mind,” Callen shrugs, returning to looking out the window. “You know, clouded judgment or lapse of judgment, whichever one the case may be.”

Sam’s voice holds a hint of warning. “I would never have a lapse in judgment when it comes to my family, there'd be too much at stake.”

Callen resists the urge to say anything other than, “Sorry.” Because no matter what Sam says, he can't find a logical explanation as to why his partner would share with him the most important part of his life.

Sam just huffs a little as he slows to a stop in front of the home. “We're partners, G,” he says, turning the engine off and closing his door a little too sharply for normal as he steps out of the car. “That means something.”

Callen’s not sure if he’s supposed to feel bad or not, if his partner is accusing him of not feeling the same about their partnership as Sam does. Either way, he _does_ know that Sam just called him by his first name for the first time.

He kinda likes it.

Allowing half a smile to himself, Callen quickly follows his partner out of the car and up the front walkway.

 

“I don't know what the G stands for,” Callen mentions one day a month later when they're on a stakeout and have already been holed up in the car for a few hours.

Sam glances at him before looking back at the origami he's working with. “Not a nickname?”

“It might be,” Callen admits. “But I don't know. No one knows my first name. I only have a letter, ‘G.’” It's as much as he’s ever offered voluntarily to anyone who wasn't Hetty before.

And then, because he's uncomfortable with the silence that's growing since Sam is yet to comment on his lack of a name or his previous lie about his name- _“It's a nickname, Sam, a lot of people have them”_ \- he adds, “I can tell you have kids, by the way.”

“Ignoring the fact that I told you?”

Callen ignores his jab. “You keep candy in the car.”

“Candy,” Sam repeats, frowning at him. “So what?”

“You're the most insane health nut I've ever met so the candy isn't yours. Yet, you keep candy in your car. That means you must have a young child,” Callen explains slowly, on purpose, as if his partner is a child himself and needs time to process.

Sam raises an eyebrow at him. “That poisonous toxin-filled with food coloring and who-knows-what-chemicals is _not_ for Kamron, it's for you.”

“Me?”

“You have a sweet tooth,” Sam says shrugging at him. He smirks a little as he opens the middle console and displays the candy wrappers to Callen. “Face it, my kids aren't the only children in my life.”

Callen takes one of the wrappers and throws it at Sam's head. “There's our guy,” he huffs, put out, as he throws open his door.

Sam's laughter echoes in his ears as they move in to make their arrest.

 

“What are you and Michelle doing for Valentine's Day?” Callen asks on the twelfth, almost a good four months after Sam first told him about his wife and daughter.

Sam's expression darkens slightly as he drops his bag on his desk. “We're not.”

“Not...why?”

“We don't have a sitter.”

If Callen could use one word to describe Sam's expression, he'd use _disappointed._ “When was the last time you two celebrated?” he asks quietly, not entirely sure where he's going with this line of questioning.

“Before Kamron was born,” Sam grunts, clearly unhappy with that fact. “We both don't have family in the area.”

_I could watch her for you._

The thought comes so quickly, so unexpectedly, the Callen almost loses his grip on his bag. _Where did that come from?_ Because, yeah, he thinks Sam's a decent guy and he's honored he even knows of Sam's family to begin with, but to even _think_ about offering to watch his kid?

He doesn't even know anything about kids or how to take care of one. It's not like he has any shining examples from his childhood, he only knows what _not_ to do.

“Case on deck!” Eric calls from the top of the stairs. Callen drops his bag on his desk and whirls, leaving those thoughts behind him as he jogs up the stairs.

Later that day, as they're lightheartedly bickering on their way to pick up a person of interest, Sam suddenly interjects, cutting Callen off before he could make his countering argument by saying, “You were going to offer earlier to watch Kamron for us.”

Callen freezes unintentionally at the statement. Not because of the fact that Sam knows, but because Sam knows and _doesn't sound mad._ “I know it's an important day to spend with the person you love,” he says carefully. “But I wasn't going to offer, I haven't met Michelle or your daughter and you need to make sure the sitter is someone you know and fully trust.” There is probably more that he could say but he ends it there. That's already more than he normally says in one go and he doesn't want to make things even more awkward between them.

Sam shrugs. “I trust you.”

“With your daughter?” Callen blurts.

“Well, I don't know how good you are with kids but you're my partner so, yeah, I trust you.” Sam looks at him. “Remember, I'm an ex-SEAL. I, unlike you, trust my partners quickly.”

It's probably not meant to be a jab but it rubs Callen the wrong way anyway. “Unlike you, I've been betrayed by most of my partners,” he retorts, glaring out his window as they lapse into silence.

It's more than he wanted to say and it's certainly not what he wanted to say at all. What does it say about him, that he's allowed Sam in enough to let him get under his skin _and_ know about his shaky past when it comes to working in a partnership?

“G,” Sam tries, but Callen waves it off.

“Not important,” he grunts, throwing open his door and stepping out of the car just a second before they come to a complete stop.

It is important.

Because he's allowing himself to let Sam in while _knowing_ how likely it is to bite him in the ass later. What is it about Sam that makes him do this?

And how he can stop himself before it's too late?  


The next week, they're busy with paperwork when Sam suddenly drops his pencil and levels him a look from the other end of the room. “What are you doing on Saturday?”

Callen frowns. “It's Tuesday, how should I know?”

“So you have no plans?”

“I haven't thought about it yet. Why?”

Sam shrugs a little. “Michelle and I would like you to come over for dinner. She wants to meet you, and Kamron says she wants to hear about her daddy's partner. You'll come, right?"

Callen feels slightly overwhelmed. “What's our cover?” he hears himself say through a fog. Being told about Sam's family is one thing but _meeting_ them? That's a whole new level of trust, even for his partner.

Sam smirks. “We're accountants.”

“You picked a _math_ profession?” Callen makes a face.

Sam shrugs again. “I was a former Junior Mathlete, sue me.”

“I'm partners with an insane, ex-SEAL who’s also a nerd.” Callen looks up at the ceiling. “Why is this my life. An accountant, _really_?”

“Brush up on your math, G,” Sam says, grinning. “My daughter loves math too and I can guarantee you she's going to test you on your ability to do basic arithmetic.”

“I can count!”

“You sure about that?” Sam eyes Callen up and down. “You forgot a button on your shirt.”

Cursing under his breath, Callen looks down and does the button. And then returns his attention to his paperwork, purposefully ignoring his partner as he ponders the request that has been made of him.

_Should he accept Sam's offer to meet his family?_

Three days go by. That Friday, Sam corners him in the hallway as he's about to sneak out to his car, presses him close to the wall and glares at him with a look somewhere between hurt, disappointment, and acceptance. “If you don't want to come tomorrow, you could have just said so on Tuesday. It's called _using words_.”

Callen ignores his gaze. “Look, I'm flattered that you asked me, but…” He shakes his head. “I think it's better that I don't come.”

“Why?”

“I don't need to explain myself to you.”

“No, but I need a better explanation to give my wife and daughter than just “he couldn't be bothered.’”

Callen lifts his head, glaring at him. “You know that's not why.”

“Do I? I don't know anything about you.”

“I'm not like you, Sam!” Callen grits out. “There was no team or partner that ever made me feel like my six was covered so now I trust all my partners as they come. That didn’t happen to me. There is no wife and child to come home to every night, not for me; I'm not like you and I never will be so don't expect me to have the happily ever after ending life you had because it'll never happen for me!” Breathing heavily, Callen ducks under his partner's arm and storms away.

He makes his way to the old building and sits on the floor, focusing on his breathing as he tries to control his emotions. Almost ten minutes go by before the door to the room creaks open, a thin line of light illuminating a path for Hetty to follow to get to him.

They both are silent and then Callen leans his head back against the wall, looking up at her and over her shoulder, as he asks, “Why him? Why is he the one you chose to be my partner?”

There's a moment of pause and then she replies smoothly, “Because, Mr. Callen, I knew he could, and would, give you something you've always lacked in your life: a friend who cares and who you can trust.”

“I thought you were my friend,” Callen jokes weakly.

She tilts her head. “I always thought myself more of a mother figure to you than a friend.”

He nods, conceding. “Yeah,” he sighs. It's quiet for a minute and then he says, “He wants me to meet his family tomorrow.”

“You're scared of what that means for both yourself and him.”

Callen leans back, closing his eyes. “You make it sound like I want to go.”

“If you didn't, you would have already told him,” she counters. At his surprised movement, she rolls her eyes at him in the motherly way only she can do. “Oh, don't act so surprised, Mr. Callen. It is quite clear to everyone involved that you want to meet Agent Hanna's family. The question is, why does doing so frighten you?”

“It doesn't scare me,” Callen huffs, opening his eyes to glare at her. “I just don't like the idea, that's all.”

“But you _do_ want to meet his family.”

“Nothing good will come of it. I know nothing about kids, let alone how to talk to them or act around them. Me and children just sounds like a disaster waiting to happen.”

“Oh, please, don't be so dramatic, Mr. Callen. Agent Hanna is quite capable of deciding who is worthy of meeting his family. Surely you trust his commitment to always protect his family?”

“Of course. Sam's a family man.” Callen looks thoughtful as he stands. “That's another reason why meeting his family is a bad idea.”

“Because it will make you long for a family as well?” Hetty presses gently. When Callen doesn't immediately counter her, she adds, “Or, to be considered a part of his?”

Callen glances at her, startled by the second inference. “He already has a family. I'm just his partner, nothing more,” he says sharply. “Nor will I become more than that.”

“Not even his friend?”

Callen looks away. “You know as well as I do-”

“That Agent Hanna is a person who trusts innately. It's a part of who he is. You're his team now, Mr. Callen. Like it or not, that makes you part of his extended family.”

“Don't say that. I am not part of his family.”

“Would you like to be?”

“Hetty,” Callen warns.

She gazes at him calmly. “I do believe Agent Hanna will see you tomorrow at six thirty, Mr. Callen. Do try and dress in decent attire.”

Callen stares at her. “I just got through saying-”

She clucks her tongue at him. “Nonsense, Mr. Callen, nonsense. We both know you want to attend and attend you shall! Have a nice dinner.” She whirls on the spot and leaves him alone in the room.

Callen sighs to himself and follows her out.

Approximately twenty hours later, he finds himself sitting in his car in front of the Hanna household. He’s picked up Sam from home before but seeing his house now, knowing why he's here and the fact that he's going to go inside for _dinner_ , scares him.

He glances at his phone. _17:51._ Close enough. Taking a deep breath, he unbuckles and climbs out of his car. When he gets to the front door, he takes a moment, composes himself to a more hardened state- after all, he's having dinner at a co-worker’s house, not with the mayor, so there's nothing to be uneasy about, making his nerves ridiculous- and then knocks on the door.

There's a squeal from somewhere close to the door and then, a few moments later, the door is opened to reveal Sam with a young girl standing at his side, practically trembling with excitement as she gazes up at him.

Callen swallows and meets Sam's eyes. “That offer still stand for dinner?”

“Told you he'd come,” Sam says to his daughter instead of responding to Callen directly. He steps back to allow Callen into his home, which Callen does somewhat timidly. But when he sees Kamron, suddenly shyer now that he's in her home, he can't help but feel guilty for having caused her unease.

Crouching down, he extends his hand. “You must be Kamron. I'm Callen, I work with your daddy.”

“Daddy says you don't like numbers,” she offers as she shyly extends her hand and shakes his.

Callen manages a smile. “No, but I'm really good at them.” He leans closer. “Better than your daddy.”

She gasps, eyes wide. “No one's better at math than daddy!”

“Yeah!” Sam interjects.

Callen smirks up at him. “You say that but we both know I'm better.”

“He's joking,” Sam tells Kamron. “I'm better.”

“I know.” She beams at him.

“Go see if your mom wants help with the cooking, okay? We'll be there in a minute.”

“One minute?”

“Yes.”

She runs down the hallway counting her way to sixty as she goes. Sam looks at Callen, grinning. “Told you, math is her thing,” he says. “And you're not so bad with kids, you know that?”

Callen shrugs him off. “What's for dinner? It smells good.”

“Why don't you come and see for yourself?” a new voice says from the doorway.

Callen looks down the hall and internally freezes at the sight of Michelle. Swallowing his unease about being there, he walks down the hall and extends his hand. “I've heard wonderful things about you,” he says.

“Likewise, Callen.” She gives him a warm smile. “Dinner will be ready in half an hour if you and Sam want to sit down and talk.”

Callen looks to Sam for his decision. “Only for twenty minutes,” Sam says, kissing her cheek as he walks past. “Then we'll help you in the kitchen.”

“Such a gentleman,” she calls after him as he walks by. Callen goes to follow, murmuring his apologies for squeezing past her, but only takes a few steps before she takes hold of his arm. Startled, he glances at her.

“Don't be worried,” she says gently. “Make it out to be an op if you have to. But you're among family here.”

Her immediate acceptance of him despite knowing only what Sam's told her of him, is nearly overwhelming.

“Thank you,” Callen says hoarsely.

Dinner is...good.

 

_This is all my fault._ That is one of the three thoughts stuck in Callen's mind as he leans out from behind his cover and fires three shots in the general vicinity of where the shooter targeting him is at.

This is his raid, he made the call for it and, because of his call, he, Sam, and the somewhat-new-to-the-team Blye are pinned down- outgunned and outmanned. And he has no communication with either of them because of the signal jammer set up in the building.

His heart is pounding a lot harder than it usually is in a situation like this.

He doesn't know if his team is alive or not, if they have been hit or not, or if they are safe behind cover. Do they still have ammo? Or are they down to their last five bullets too?

From somewhere nearby, he hears gunshots, three in rapid succession, and then comes the telltale sound of a body hitting the ground.

Callen looks out and everything goes eerily blank. When he resurfaces, seconds later, he's out from behind his cover, standing in front of his downed partner as he fires all five of his remaining bullets at the person who shot his partner.

He does this and one meets its mark. He doesn't wait to see if the person is down for good, he just leans down, takes hold of Sam's arms, and pulls. He gets his partner to safety and kneels beside him, feeling for the bullet wounds.

“Come on, Sam,” he chants under his breath, “Not like this, you've got a family to go home to…”

He finds all three slugs in Sam's vest.

A moment later, a bullet whizzes past his head. Callen flinches and whirls, instinctively leaning over Sam's body with his own to protect his partner. He feels the all-too-telling feeling of a bullet hitting his flesh, but he somehow manages not to move. Then there's a single shot, followed by no more.

“Callen!” Kensi yells, running up as she holsters her weapon. “You okay?”

“Sam's been shot, three to the vest,” Callen tells her. “Take your phone, go outside, get help. I'll sweep the building one more time. Go!”

She doesn't wait, just runs off.

Callen gently lays a hesitant hand on the untouched side of Sam's vest, feeling his partner breathe unsteadily under his hand. “You're going to be okay,” he whispers.

And then he stands, determinedly ignoring the sting coming from his lower right side, picks up the dead man's gun, and goes to clear the warehouse.

Once he's determined it's clear, he lowers his gun to the floor and untucks his shirt, tenderly feeling his side. His hand comes back bloody. Cursing, Callen quickly bunches the fabric of his shirt around that area of himself before tugging his vest down to hold the fabric in place. Judging from where the bullet has struck him, it's just a graze, an unfortunate one at that because it went just under where his vest would protect him. It's not him who needs the help, it's his partner.

His partner who has a family; a young daughter, a son in the military academy boarding school, and a wife.

He let his partner get shot when he failed to have his back. He'll be damned if he'll stop Sam from getting the treatment he needs now.

“Callen?” Kensi calls, loudly, from the other end of the warehouse. “Medics are two minutes out!”

Callen determinedly jogs that way, kneeling next to his partner when he reaches his side. Sam's just coming around as he does so. “Easy,” Callen cautions, easing Sam back with a gentle hand to his shoulder. “You're okay, I know it hurts but the vest took them, you're okay.”

Sam stares up at him before sighing, closing his eyes after a moment of struggling to receive air. “Sam?” Callen says sharply. “Keep your eyes open!”

Kensi kneels beside him, eyes wide and just a hint afraid. “Take his vest off,” she suggests. “Maybe he'll be able to breathe better.”

Callen nods, helping his sluggish partner out of his vest. Sam exhales, breathing easier, and looks up at Callen. “You good?” he coughs.

“Fine,” Callen says shortly. “Kensi, check on the bus.”

She does as he asks and once she's gone, Callen says quietly, helping Sam sit up, “You need anything, want me to call Michelle?”

Sam's eyes widen. “She's visiting her mom in Florida,” he says hoarsely. “I'm supposed to pick up Kam from school.”

“That's not happening,” Callen says before he can finish his thought. “You're going to the hospital so they can make sure your ribs are okay. I'll pick up Kam and take care of her until you're done with your x-rays.”

Sam looks worried.

Callen takes a deep breath, then has to use the majority of his concentration to keep from allowing the wince to show on his features. “I'll take her to the hospital so she can see you, so you both won't worry about the other, if that's what you'd prefer,” he says. “But someone has to pick Kam up and it can't be you…”

“School ends in forty minutes,” Sam interrupts.

Callen mentally calculates the distance he has to travel and curses. “Kensi'll go with you to the hospital,” he says, standing. “Call me if you need anything.” And he takes off for the Challenger at a jog.

“Callen?” Kensi calls, seeing him run out as she's running in with the paramedics in tow.

“Make sure he gets his ribs x-rayed! Then call Hetty, see if she has a follow-up assignment for you,” he shouts, getting in the car. It took Sam months, nearly a year, to tell him about his family. He’ll be damned if that information _ever_ leaves his mouth, to anyone.

The drive to the school is as hurried as it is never-ending and painful. Callen's side is on fire, but he's stopped bleeding, for now, so he bears it no thought as he parks the Challenger and enters the preschool to pick up Kamron.

“Callen!” she exclaims cheerfully when she sees him. He's been to her house for dinner twice since that first night so she's seen enough of him to recognize him. “Where's my daddy?”

Callen kneels in front of her on the ground. “Your daddy got into an accident this morning,” he says gently. “So he's in the hospital getting a picture taken of his chest. But he's okay so I'm going to take you to see him now, okay?”

Her lower lip wobbles. “Daddy's hurt?”

“Yes, sweetheart, but he's okay. I'm going to take you to see him, okay?”

She shakes her head, fear intermixing with curiosity to create a slew of questions Callen isn't sure how to answer. “How did he get hurt?” she asks. “Did he fall?”

“No, we were in a car accident this morning when we were headed to work. That's why I’m driving a special car,” Callen explains, lifting her in his arms as he bids the preschool teacher farewell and carries Kam to the Challenger.

She blinks at him. “Were you hurt too?” she says in a small voice.

“No, I'm alright.” He helps her into the backseat of the car and the carseat he had quickly purchased on the way to the school. “You ready to go see your dad?”

She nods.

The drive to the hospital is mostly silent, minus for the story Kamron tells about her classmate. Callen gives her a small smile, amused by her animated story-telling, and then takes her hand when they enter the hospital together.

“My friend was brought here earlier today, Sam Hanna,” Callen says to the charge nurse at the desk. “I have his daughter with me, may we see him?”

“Room 3,” the nurse replies absently, not looking up from her paperwork. Callen knows from a minute-long conversation with Hetty over the phone that Kensi is back at OPS briefing her on the case; he is free and safe to bring Kamron to see her dad.

Callen pulls back the curtain and glances into the room. “Your dad's resting so we have to be quiet, okay?”

“Like a ninja?”

Callen smirks. “Exactly like a ninja.” They enter the room together and Callen, when he notices Kamron shrink back at the sight of the tubes and wires connected to her father, takes her into his arms and then sets her down carefully on the bed. She, instead of moving closer to her father, presses into his side, grabbing onto his hand and holding tight. Callen’s heart clenches and he’s speaking before he even processes the situation and what he wants to say.

“I know all the stuff connected to your daddy can be scary but he’s okay, Kam. I promise,” Callen hastens to reassure, squeezing her hand as he squats down so he’s at her eye level- resolutely ignoring the horrible stinging pain in his other side. “That stuff is just there so they can do math about your dad.”

She blinks at him. “Math?”

“Yeah, see that monitor?” Callen points to the heart monitor. “That shows how many times his heart beats per minute. But instead of the doctor standing in here going, ‘That’s one, that’s two, oh, look, that’s three!’ until he reaches one hundred and then starting over the next minute for hours, they have a machine that counts for them.”

“They’re lazy,” she pouts. “Maybe I can count for them?”

“Wouldn’t that put you to sleep, doing so much counting? You know, math is boring.” Callen winks at her.

Her eyes widen. “Callen, math isn’t boring! It’s fun!”

“I’ll tell you what, how about you come to work with me and do all of my math for me? I don’t like math but you do…”

She giggles. “Just have daddy do it when he feels better.”

Her statement, as harmless as she meant it to be, unintentionally serves as Callen’s reminder that his partner almost died, that he _could have died_ had the bullets struck him in a different place. And that because of him, because he signed off on the op and then failed to have his partner’s back, Sam’s been wounded.

Kam squeezes his hand, causing Callen to snap out of her thoughts and look back at her. “Don’t be scared, Callen,” she says with more maturity than she should have for her age. “Daddy’s going to be okay, you told me so.”

“I did.” Callen swallows hard, wondering to himself just what exactly showed on his face to allow a _four-year-old_ to recognize that he was down. He’s not scared- wracked with guilt, actually- but for anyone, let alone a four-year-old, to have noticed he’s anything but fine…

He’s slipping.

Clearing his throat, he says. “If you want, you can cuddle with him. Just be gentle, okay?”

She nods her understanding and then moves closer, snuggling against Sam's side and laying her head on his shoulder. “I love you, daddy,” she whispers.

Even asleep as Sam appears to be, he brings his arm up and around Kamron's body, holding her protectively against him. The display of pure _love_ from father to daughter and daughter to father causes a lump to form in Callen's throat.

Backing up slowly, he steps into the hall and takes a moment to compose himself. The doctor, of course, chooses that time to come talk to him. “Agent Callen, your partner-”

Callen lifts his head, eyes wide, and gestures that they step away from the room. The doctor looks baffled but follows him.

“My partner’s daughter is visiting with him,” Callen murmurs. “And she-”

“Doesn't know, right. Sorry. Well, I bring good news regarding your partner. His vest did indeed catch all three bullets, preventing him from very grave danger, although he does have a cracked rib and two more badly bruised ones from the force of the shots. Recovery should take a few weeks, approximately.”

Callen nods thoughtfully. “He'll be allowed some time off and then light work to ensure his ribs are given the proper amount of time to heal.” He knows that's Hetty's plan without even having to consult her. Now, if it were him, he'd be back to work a few days later- maybe five at most- but it's not him. It's his partner, who is a husband and father of two kids. He won't put Sam's recovery at risk, not like he would his own.

(Regardless of Sam having kids, he'd make any member of his team take the full time off required. But, he admits to himself silently, he does feel a bit more anxious over his partner because Sam is a father.)

“Agent Callen?”

Callen blinks up at the doctor, coming out of his thoughts. “I'm sorry?”

“Are you alright?”

Something hits Callen suddenly and he's not quite sure if it's the realization that he nearly _lost_ his partner, or if it's the injury in his side but one moment Callen is reassuring the doctor and the next he stumbling down the hall to the bathroom, barely wrenching the door open before he's coughing up blood into the toilet.

Maybe it's the latter, then.

There's a knock at the door before it is thrown open and Callen tries to straighten up, tries to erase the weakness in his stature, only to full out lose his composure and grimace when his side flares up in pain.

The doctor is at his side in another moment. He hardly glances at the toilet, just brings his arm around Callen's shoulders, supporting his weight. Maybe it's doctor's intuition because without even asking where he's been hit, the doctor’s available hand comes to feel Callen's right side and the offending wound there.

He curses, quietly, then yells, “I need a gurney!”

_No, you don't,_ Callen tries to say, _I'm fine,_ but nothing really comes out. It feels like now that the excitement is over and his duty to Sam is fulfilled, his body is giving up on him.

Dark spots fill his vision and Callen coughs, swallowing blood in the process. “My partner, don't tell him,” are his last words before everything goes black.

 

When he opens his eyes, he's laying alone in his room. Hetty's not there and neither is...well, Hetty's the only one who _might_ sit with him.

Callen turns his head to look at his heart monitor and the vitals on display there. His blood pressure is a little low but everything else is within stable parameters.

Mind made up, Callen forces himself into a sitting position, ignoring the sting in his side, and glances around for his clothes before he carefully pulls the IV out of his arm.

“You better not be doing what I think you're doing,” a new voice, Sam's voice, says from the doorway.

Callen doesn't freeze, necessarily, but he does hesitate a little as he looks up. And there's Sam, standing in the doorway.

Holding in the scowl that arises at seeing his partner out of bed is also a struggle for the lead agent. Sam was shot three times, what is he doing out of bed? “Feeling better?” he asks lowly.

“Yes and no,” Sam says, entering the room. “Physically, yes, enough so to be released a few hours ago.” _A few hours ago? How long was he unconscious?_ As if Sam's read his mind, he continues, “Other than that, no. What the hell is the matter with you, why didn't you tell me you were shot? Better than that, why did you drive my daughter around after taking a _bullet_ to your side?”

“She was in no danger,” Callen retorts. His words feel cold even to him.

“Yeah?” Sam raises an eyebrow. “Five minutes after you brought her to me, you collapsed. What if you'd gotten stuck in traffic and passed out in the car with her, huh? Then what?”

“That wouldn't have happened.”

“You have no way of knowing that!”

“It wouldn't have happened,” Callen grits out through clenched teeth. “Your daughter was my first priority, nothing else mattered to me. She was safe.”

“From everything but you,” Sam snaps, and his words are as biting as they sound.

Callen determinedly does not allow his grief to show on his face. Sam, for his part, immediately looks horrified, a hoarse, “Callen,” escaping his lips just as the doctor appears in the doorway, kicks Sam out of the room, and moves to Callen’s side to examine him.

Callen doesn't take his eyes away from the door, answering the doctor’s questions with no honesty or premise, feeling empty.

“Agent Callen?” the doctor says gently, his soft voice cutting the hard corners of Callen’s thoughts.

“Am I dying?”

“No,” the doctor hastens to reassure.

Callen finally looks at him. “Then I need your help.”

 

It's Eric who finds him. Callen had expected as much, really, and somehow he's not resentful of that fact. Maybe he had lingered in the corners of the security cameras a little too long, hoping someone who cared would come for him.

Callen doesn't ponder that for too long though, not wanting to confirm to himself that he needs someone else's love and care in order to feel worth something.

There's a light rap at the door. Callen already knows it's Eric; he saw him enter the hotel. And the knock pattern is the theme to Star Wars; it’s definitely Eric.

He opens the door and finds Eric standing in the doorway, a bag of who-knows-what in his hands.

Callen opens the door wider and steps back, allowing Eric the space he needs to enter the room. Eric pushes past him with a fierce determination on his features that Callen has only really seen on him a few times.

“Do you know how hard it was to come here without being seen in any security cams?” Eric scowls at him, dropping on the bed as he hands Callen the bag. “I'm pretty sure Hetty's going to kill me later and if she doesn't, Sam will.”

“You could have told them where I was,” Callen points out, taking a sip of the bitter coffee he prepared from the tiny coffee maker that’s standard in any hotel room.

“No, I couldn't,” Eric huffs, as if telling them was never a distinct possibility. “You're lucky I know where the cameras are so I knew how to avoid them or you'd have a task force banging this door down.”

Callen shrugs. “We’d lose them before they even made it to the floor.” He opens the bag and peers in it. “Your tablet?”

Eric raises an eyebrow at him. “How else do you expect me to hack the TV so we can watch TOS?”

“TOS?”

“The Original Series of _Star Trek_ ,” Eric answers, keying up his tablet. “Would you rather _Harry Potter_? I can also do-”

“Star Trek,” Callen interrupts. “I could use something that will put me to sleep.”

Eric glares at him. “I'll have you know that TOS is a _classic,_ ” he retorts.

Callen settles down on the opposite bed, leaning against the stack of pillows at his back, and closes his eyes briefly as he listens to Eric mutter to himself about Star Trek and ‘Spirk’, whatever that is, and hacking problems.

“Callen?” Eric says quietly, nervously.

Callen opens his eyes and glances over at him, remaining quiet but relaying silently with his eyes that Eric can speak.

“Are you okay?”

“Fine,” Callen responds. “Hack, Beale.”

The companionship, as awkward as Eric can be at times, especially when he feels out of his element like he is now, is...not horrible.

 

When he finally turns his phone on, he has one threatening text from Hetty to return to the hospital and a whopping seven missed calls from Sam, one apology voicemail, and twelve text messages.

Callen climbs on the bus, pays his fare, takes a seat, and then types out his response.

_It's fine, don't worry about it. By Hetty’s orders I'm on leave for two weeks, take care of yourself._

He then promptly- once he is off the bus, that is- goes to the Apple store and proceeds to have his number changed.

He knows he's being petty and foolish by making sure Sam can't contact him but he doesn't know how to face his partner yet.

So, for now, Sam can wait.  


He spends the next two weeks in his new motel room, not doing much more than resting, fixing random items around the place, and finishing his paperwork from _that_ case.

He's tired.

On the day before his two weeks are up, Callen packs his bag and goes to OPS. Eric, standing on the balcony to announce a case, no doubt, sees him first and beams.

“Callen!” he exclaims, running down the stairs at record speed for him, stopping briefly in front of Callen, perhaps to slow his momentum, before he throws his arms around Callen’s shoulders. “You're back!”

Callen can't quite hide the small smile that comes from Eric's actions. “Missed me?” he teases.

Eric looks at him seriously as he pulls away. “Yes.”

Kensi is next in line, a shy smile on her face. “It’s good to have you back,” she says, touching his arm lightly but not moving in for a hug, which Callen appreciates. Their relationship is nowhere near there yet.

“It's good to be back.”

How much of that statement is a lie and how much is the truth, Callen doesn't know.

“G,” Sam says quietly.

Callen looks up to see Kensi and Eric running up the stairs, leaving them alone.

“There's a case,” he says pointedly. “That can wait.”

“Yes, it can,” Hetty agrees, coming out of nowhere. “Mr. Callen, a word.”

Resisting the urge to sigh, Callen follows her to her office. At her pointed gesture towards the chair, Callen sits. She fixes a cup of tea for him and hands it to him before she takes a seat opposite of him.

She observes him for a moment before she asks, “Mr. Callen, do you trust your partner to have your back in the field?”

“Yes.”

“There was no hesitation there. Was that the truth or a well-disguised lie?”

“Why would I lie?”

“Because you are used to being the lone wolf; you do not care if you have a partner or not that you can trust.”

Callen bristles at the accusation. “I am used to being burned by partners,” he says coldly. “Believe me, I do care. It’s nice to not have to worry about being stabbed in the back.”

“Mr. Callen-”

“You asked me if I trusted my partner. I said yes. Maybe you should be asking Sam that question.” He turns, leaving her, and is at the bottom of the stairs leading to OPS when her bellow echoes throughout the floor.

“Mr. Callen!”

He pauses, looking over his shoulder at her. “He said yes,” she says, standing in the doorway of her office space.

Callen processes that information, nods, and jogs up the stairs.  

“Whadda we got, Eric?” he asks, settling in in front of the table as he focuses on the screen, frowning at the pictures of the crime scene.

There's a pause as the members of his team seem to assess him and when he gives them all a pointed look, Eric coughs loudly and begins going over the case.

The car ride to the remains of the blown up building is silent. Not that there's usually conversation, but there always had been an element of banter between them. Now it's quiet, any attempts of conversation quickly dying as soon as the next stop sign appears.

Callen doesn't really like that, but he doesn't know how to fix it. He knows Sam wants to talk about _it_ , but he doesn't want to. Anything else, even if it's about his living habits, would be appreciated.

But with Sam's newfound hesitance, he also seems to be lacking in the desire to take shots at his habits.

“Kam says she wants you to come over for dinner soon,” Sam says quietly as he stops at a stop light.

Callen looks straight out the windshield. “She probably just wants to do some of my math work for me,” he says mildly, but his tone seems cold, his mask off kilter.

Sam, of course, notices. “She says you're a hero, you know.”

Callen feels a headache coming. “I told her we were in a car accident. There's no reason for her to think that.”

“She told Michelle about the accident, but she also told her how you said you weren't injured. Considering I was, I think she put it in her head that you must have ignored your own injuries to pull me out of the car before it exploded.”

“Exploded? I never said-”

“She's four, she's got a big imagination.” There's a warm fondness in Sam's voice that makes Callen's heart clench. “That, and she's seen the 1960s Batman TV show.”

Callen stares at him. “ _That_ show?”

“It's a classic.”

“No, _Andy Griffith_ is a classic. That, that is an-”

“Don't say it…”

“Oldie,” Callen finishes, grinning.

“I don't know why my daughter likes you,” Sam grumbles, accelerating as the light turns green. “You don't appreciate jazz, you think a classic is an oldie- as if we aren't the same age- you don't eat healthy, you-”

“Put your daughter's life at risk.” The words escape from Callen without his being aware he was thinking them, and an awkward silence tales over the car. “Sorry,” he mumbles.

Sam pulls them over so quickly that Callen lurches in his seat. “No, _I'm_ sorry. I know you, you never would have let anything happen to Kam. Even if you'd been stabbed and bleeding out, you still would have put her safety before your own- and she would miraculously come away unscathed too. I shouldn't have said what I did, it was wrong of me and I'm sorry.”

“You need to keep driving,” Callen finally says after a long pause.

“G-”

“You've got a cop approaching and you've stopped in front of a hydrant.”

“Son-of-a!” Sam quickly turns on his signal and pulls out.

They transcend into silence again until Callen asks quietly, “We good?”

“I am if you are.”

It's oddly touching in a way that only Sam can make him feel.

Callen nods. “We're good.”

 

“Callen!” Kamron shrieks, running down the walkway to leap into Callen's arms as he’s walking to the front door- who startles and drops his bag, but manages to catch her still.

“Hi, Kam,” he says, eyes a little wide as he sets her down. “How's it going, you do any math today?”

She nods seriously as she takes his hand and walks him into the house- after he retrieves his bag- and says, “I helped daddy bake a cake so I got to do all the measuring!”

“Yeah? What kind of cake did you make?”

“An Angel food cake,” she says with a pleased smile as she shuts and locks the door.

Callen looks down at her, unable to keep the smile off his face as he teases, “An _Angel,_ cake, huh? You must have known I was coming.”

She giggles, shaking her head. “No, silly, it's because it's Momma's birthday today, that's why daddy and I made it!”  

“Your dad can bake? That's not fair, why haven't I gotten any cookies from him?” Callen says, pouting, even as he feels something seize in his chest. It's Michelle's _birthday?_ Why the _hell_ did they invite _him_ over _tonight_ , then?

_To babysit Kam,_ his mind supplements helpfully. Relieved, Callen follows Kam into the kitchen, only to stop in surprise when he sees both Michelle and Sam standing in there _not_ dressed as if they're going out for a special dinner.

“Sam?” Callen says, both wary and confused. “What's going on, Kam told me it's Michelle's birthday… I'm not babysitting?”

Both Michelle and Sam look up from the various dishes they’re assembling, something akin to sadness flashing in Sam's eyes before it's gone and he says, “Of course not, G, I would have asked you prior to this if I needed you to. We're having dinner, like what Michelle and I invited you to.”

“But, it's your birthday…” Callen says slowly to Michelle, feeling lost. “Why…”

She rolls her eyes at him even as she gives him a sad look, stepping forward to give him a hug, which he returns without hesitation. “Because you're family,” she says. “Sam, honey, go see if Aiden is done wrapping his gift so he can help set the table?”

Sam gives her a warm smile, kissing her cheek as he walks past. Michelle smiles at Callen once he goes, telling him, “I see you brought the soda as I asked.”

Callen nods. “Sam's going to kill me,” he says, managing a small smile. “You know how he is.”

“He's a health nut,” she agrees, smirking. “Too bad it's my birthday and I want some soda with my wine with my dinner.”

Callen actually _laughs_ , taking the bottle out of the bag. Kam joins him with her mother's glass held in hand. “You pour, I'll hold,” she says.

“You're not gonna pour?” Callen says, raising an eyebrow.

Kam laughs. “I’d spill,” she tells him.

“No, you wouldn’t,” Callen says, “Cause I'd help you. But, if you insist…” He twists the cap off, gasping when soda suddenly sprays out, covering him and Kam and the area around them until he's able to twist the lid back on. There's silence for a long moment until Michelle's hysterical laughter registers in his mind.

He turns slowly, finding that she's doubled over laughing as she wipes tears from her eyes. “You should have seen your face!” She gasps. “Oh, my, did you drop the bag or something?”

“When Kam leapt into my arms,” Callen realizes, hanging his head. “I'm so sorry, I didn't think about-”

“Oh, don't apologize, that was a wonderful birthday gift!” Michelle chortles, still wiping her eyes. “Kam, baby, why don't you go wash up and change? Hang your clothes on the towel rack in the bathroom. Callen, go find my husband, ask him for a shirt to wear. I'll clean up here.”

“You don't- I can-”

She gives him a firm, yet somehow warm, look. “G, it's more than okay,” she says firmly. “Don't worry about it.”

Callen wants to apologize again but somehow gathers that she would take offense if he did, so he sighs quietly and goes down to the basement.

“What the hell happened to you?” Sam exclaims when he spots him standing on the bottom stair.

Callen shrugs ruefully. “Your daughter and I fought a bottle of soda and lost. Michelle said you could give me a shirt to wear …?”

“It's not going to fit,” Sam says lightly, gesturing for Callen to come closer as he takes the top shirt off a pile of clothes and hands it to Callen. “Here.”

“Don't call me short,” Callen retorts.

“I'm not saying that, exactly, just saying you're not as vertically gifted or physically gifted as I am,” Sam responds, smirking. “Admit it, G, you're skinny and I'm built. There's nothing to be ashamed of…”

“Yeah? I'll admit only that you're a pain in the…” Callen trails off when he catches sight of Sam's ten-year-old standing off to the side.

“Hey, Aiden,” Callen greets, extending his hand. “I'm Callen, your father’s friend from work.”

Aiden takes his hand and takes it, his shyness apparent even despite his firm handshake and the way he says, “Dad talks about you all the time.”

“Probably about my love for tootsie rolls,” Callen says, smirking at Sam when Sam rolls his eyes. “He hates that about me.”

“I don't hate it. I just strongly dislike it,” Sam says.

Callen laughs as he takes his shirt off and slides Sam's shirt on. It smells like his partner which is both weird and oddly familiar in a way that Callen isn't sure if he wants to know why.

Laughter makes him look up and finds Aiden laughing at him, more specifically, at the shirt he is wearing. “It's so big on you!” he exclaims gleefully.

Which is true, he's in a Navy SEAL t-shirt that hangs all the way down to his ass and with sleeves that flap when he walks. _How embarrassing._

For his partner's part, Sam can barely keep in his own laughter. Callen glares at him and makes his way up the stairs, only to blush some more when both Kam and Michelle burst into laughter at the sight of him in Sam's shirt.

Next time he comes over, regardless of whether or not there's soda involved, he is _so_ bringing a spare change of clothes.

 

Two years as partners turn into three which turns into four and their “bromance”, as Kensi and their new teammate Deeks take to calling it, only gets better with time- like fine wine, as Sam would say.

As fate goes, their five-year anniversary brings a case that is, not only about partners, but also outlines to Callen his relationship with his partner. He's considered Sam his best friend since probably halfway into their second year together, but when the dirty cop explains to him in the boatshed how the lines between her partner and herself are blurred between _partner_ and _family_ , Callen's response, without having to think about it, is that blurred line is what has kept him going sometimes.

After that case, Callen is hard-pressed to stop thinking about what he had admitted to her. It isn't something he often thinks about, his friendship with Sam- not for a lack of want but because of a lack of need. Their friendship is as complicated as they are but its foundation is simple, their roots are built by mutual trust and respect. It's the former that Callen doesn't like to think about because he's trusted his partners before only to get burned.

And that was a bare minimum trust of “you watch my back, I'll watch yours.” That wasn't even the trust he has with Sam, which has slowly built into something where Callen will turn to Sam if he's upset and needs someone to lean on. He certainly doesn't _lean_ and doesn't often find himself going to Sam in a vulnerable moment, but sometimes he surprises them both by admitting a part of his past to Sam that he hasn't shared with anyone else before, sometimes not even Hetty.

_They are,_ Callen thinks to himself with a smile as he places the framed picture of Sam's family on his mantel, given to him in private on their fifth anniversary by Sam, _the lines between Sam and I as partners versus brothers is definitely blurred._

But he's okay with that.

For the first time in his life, he may just have a family.

**Author's Note:**

> I wondered about this for a long time now, when did Sam tell Callen about his family? When did Callen meet them? How did knowing Sam had a family effect Callen on the job- after all, his partner had a family to support and to come home to every night. And, when did Callen begin to see Sam (and his family) as part of his family too? 
> 
> Hence this story. Hopefully, the characterization and voice were close to normal. You'd think after watching this show for so long I'd be able to write their voice correctly but they're still the hardest characters for me to write, somehow. xD I hope everyone enjoyed!


End file.
